Mango Kisses Read Online Free PDF

damn. He sniffed suspiciously at the few centimetres of milk left in the carton and poured it down the sink.
    He took his toast and vegemite and black coffee to the table and sat morosely staring at the newspaper he’d picked up on the way home from his swim. Bushfires — a blaze burning for several days in a nearby national park had been controlled but could erupt again if weather conditions changed.
    Miles read that item with a flicker of interest; Birrigai was isolated and surrounded by bush. The fire was far enough away not to be a threat, but as a member of the local volunteer bushfire brigade he was conscious of the constant danger as the heat intensified every summer. A lightning strike or an idiot tossing a cigarette butt and all hell could break loose.
    He drained his coffee. One of the folders teetered on its stack and slid to the floor in a cascade of paper. Damn, damn, damn and blast! He was tempted to leave it there. So much for the helpful and fantastic accountant both Denise and Louisa had recommended. The accountant’s boss had promised she’d call especially when he’d implied there could be vast sums involved. That was two weeks ago but since then nada , zip, zilch. He’d gathered she was supposed to appear sometime soon, calling in while on leave. Be nice if she’d made an appointment. Hers wasn’t the only valuable time.
    He was damned if he was going to call them again. Miles strode to the kitchen and slammed the dirty dishes into the sink. A couple of papers floated after him. He couldn’t get away from the bloody stuff. Then there were the boxes of account books, receipts, bank statements and heaven knows what else stashed away in crates in the spare room. The paper in view was the tip of the iceberg. He’d read and discarded the first few then given up.
    The man was nothing to him. Why he’d left his entire estate to Miles was beyond his comprehension. Miles wanted nothing to do with his father. Hadn’t even taken his name when was old enough to decide. Just because the selfish bastard had a belated attack of conscience and tried to make amends for a lifetime of neglect didn’t mean Miles had to pretend forgiveness all of a sudden.
    Where was he when Miles was growing up fatherless? Where was he when Mum needed help and support, let alone money? Where was he when she lay ill and dying from cancer? Where was he when she died? Miles gritted his teeth against the grief, still recent enough to cause a sharp pang at unexpected moments.
    Grant Davidson had offered nothing to his son in his lifetime and now he’d heaped insult upon injury by leaving an estate in one hell of a mess.
    ‘Your father owned no property and was resident in a hotel at the time of his death. You are his sole beneficiary.’
    The court appointed legal representative had looked at him with a blank expression.
    ‘Must I be?’ was his immediate reaction.
    ‘That’s entirely up to you,’ came the reply, ‘but I am legally bound to pass on the effects.’ And his whole demeanour said, Get on with it. Sign the papers and let me get back to civilisation.
    ‘What did he have?’ asked Miles. It couldn’t have been much. According to this Frederick Givens from some Brisbane law firm he’d been living in a rundown establishment frequented by long-term residents down on their luck.
    ‘I’m not sure. There could be a considerable sum of money involved. I suggest you contact an experienced accountant.’
    ‘Thank you,’ said Miles and signed the papers.
    And that’s as far as he’d got, beyond dumping the suitcases and plastic bags full of smelly, worn clothes — the detritus of a useless, wasted life — at the local tip.

    Tiffany woke with a start and couldn’t remember where she was for a few moments. The sheet was tangled around her body and twisted across the pillow under her cheek. The dimly lit room was totally unfamiliar. The glowing red numbers on the bedside clock flashing 9:24 a.m. added to her